


First Impressions Are A Work In Progress

by BelFrost



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asperger's Sherlock Holmes, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 08:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11733048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelFrost/pseuds/BelFrost
Summary: Sherlock's brilliant, always has been, he's a genius, and finds out at least fifteen facts about somebody just by looking at them, but he still can't read them. At thirty-nine, people still confuse him, and the rules are too complicated but John is still trying to teach Sherlock the rules, and Sherlock still isn't getting them





	First Impressions Are A Work In Progress

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Fanfiction.net under then Penname Grace.Bella. This is my work but has been moved to this platform to keep my work together.

Sherlock is three years old and hasn't learned how to focus yet. He doesn't know what evidence means, or what it normally implies. All Sherlock sees is that one strap on her dress is twisted, and she has freckles on her noise, and a large one on her collar bone. She has shallow breast and no bra. Sherlock can see her nipples.

There's a stain on her dress, chocolate, maybe. Her nails have yellow stains, from nicotine, like his Fathers. Mummy doesn't know that Father is still smoking, but Sherlock does.

Her red hair is sticking to her forehead and there is damp patches under her arms.

The girl has prickly legs, it's at least three days old.

Sherlock wonders if it will feel like damp sandpaper, so he touches it. Its not exactly the same, but Sherlock doesn't mind because he likes the sensation still.

That's when Mummy walks into the kitchen, screams and drops what ever she is carrying. Mummy grabs his hand and yanks him away, her hand is tight and it hurts, but Sherlock doesn't mind that. His Mummy is making a lot of noise though, and Sherlock is finding it hard to understand, so he tries to fight her off.

She doesn't let go, so Sherlock digs his nails into her skin in hopes she will. Instead, she pulls him to her and hugs him so tightly that it makes it a little hard to breath. Sherlock doesn't mind this though, because he likes Mummys' tight hugs.

There is water on Mummy's cheeks, and Sherlock doesn't understand yet that she's crying. He can see where her make-up has been smudged and reapplied again. Her lips are painted pink with the NARS lip gloss that Father brought her and her lashes are pale for once. Mummy is wearing flat saddles, and Sherlock can see that her second toe is bigger than the others and he can tell she reapplied her nail varnish too. It's too thick at the ends where Mummy made a mistake and had to dab it with a cloth.

Sherlock doesn't listen to what his Mummy says on the phone, because her voice sounds strange and it confuses Sherlock. He hears the voice on the other end of the phone say 'calm down' to Mummy.

Sherlock squirms, because the voices are too loud and Mummy feels too close now.

Mummy says the words 'head injury' and 'blood', but Sherlock doesn't understand them either. He still doesn't know that Mummy is crying, or why she is so upset. At three years old, Sherlock doesn't understand that the girl, his babysitter was hurt. Sherlock is only three and doesn't know what death is yet.

Sherlock is four and they all think he's shy. Parents coo at him as he stands by Mummy's side and some of them kneel down and put their face too close. Sherlock always recoils, because he hates it. It makes their eyes too close and Sherlock can see too many different colours and lines and it makes his head go fuzzy because he doesn't know where to look. Sherlock doesn't like eyes, he doesn't like his own eyes' ether because they are blue and green and sometimes yellow.

The teacher thinks he's rude because he never answers a question when they ask him to. They don't like that he doesn't sit still on the carpet either. Why should he sit on the carpet and listen to the teacher talk about things he already knows? He thinks carpet time is stupid, so doesn't do it.

Sherlock isn't rude, or at least he tries not to be, and he certainly isn't shy. Sherlock is five and can read and write in English and German, but he doesn't speak either yet.

Sherlock is seven and talks now, but only to Mummy, Father, Mycroft and his teachers. Mummy and Father hired a speech therapist, but Sherlock doesn't know why. Now that he's older, he wonders how pointing at an object and saying its name very slowly like he didn't understand was meant to help him. Everybody older than him talks at him, and not to him. Sherlock doesn't want to talk to them, he doesn't think they'd listen.

Mycroft isn't like that though, and Sherlock likes Mycroft for that. Mycroft is nice to him, even when they do experiments together and play games and Sherlock messes them up because he gets too excited. Mycroft doesn't mind that ether.

Some of the children in school talk to Sherlock and expect a reply, some of them think they already know his answer. Sherlock doesn't like them, they remind him of Father, and he doesn't like that.

All the children in school are too loud and they talk to much but never say anything important, so Sherlock spends his lunch times alone, observing the teachers and the bugs. Other children think he's strange and their parents think he's adorable and shy until he starts talking, and then its all, 'well, I never!'

Sherlock thinks they are strange because he was only telling the truth.

When his classmates speak to him, he only tells them the truth and what he sees. Normally that results in somebody having a wet face, and Sherlock knows enough now to understand they're crying, but he doesn't know why. Then Sherlock gets sent to the naughty seat and he wonders why his Mummy and Father wanted him to speak so badly.

Sherlock is nine, and doesn't have any friends. He doesn't understand why this makes Father angry, Mummy sad and Mycroft worry. Sherlock prefers bee's to people. Sherlock doesn't like the children in school, they all tell him things he already knows because they think he doesn't know anything.

Sherlock isn't dumb, he sees things differently to everybody else, and he sees things nobody else does. The teachers talk to Sherlock in a high tone that seems to get higher and squeaker the younger the child is, and this annoys Sherlock. It makes his ears hurt, so he blocks them out but then doesn't know what they were trying to tell him, so they think Sherlock's dumb too. Sherlock tells them that they are the dumb ones, and should stop sucking on Helium. This gets him sent to time out again.

Mycroft doesn't talk to Sherlock like he's different, and he never changes his voice unless they're sharing a secret. Sherlock likes talking to Mycroft, because his voice always stays the same, unless he's talking to Mummy. Mycroft is always telling Sherlock that he's smart too, smarter than anybody else in his class.

He already knows this though. He doesn't need Mycroft to tell him, but he always likes to hear it. Mycroft is sixteen now, and doing his GCSE's in school. Sherlock knows he's smart, because sometimes Sherlock does Mycrofts' maths homework when he isn't looking. This makes Mycroft cross though, but Sherlock can't help it.

His homework is boring and too easy, so Sherlock doesn't do it any more. This annoys his teacher though, and he has a go at Sherlock in front of the class, who snigger. Sherlock doesn't have any friends, because everybody assume, and that annoys Sherlock.

Mummy asks him, "Aren't you lonely, sweetheart?" And Sherlock doesn't understand why he would be lonely when he doesn't like any of them, and they don't like him either.

"Why would I be lonely Mummy?" He asks, and this just seems to bother Mummy more.

Sherlock is eleven and knows now that the kids in class are right, and that he is a freak. He hears Mummy whispering words like 'Autism' and 'Aspergers' and Sherlock doesn't know what that is. Father just calls him naughty and rude.

Mycroft tells him that it doesn't change anything, and Sherlock says, "I know that Mycroft, I'm not stupid."

Sherlock doesn't like Mycroft much any more, because Mycroft is eighteen now, too old for childrens things, too old for Sherlock. He's left Sherlock now, and Sherlock doesn't understand why he isn't good enough for Mycroft to stay.

Too much has happened since Mycroft left, and Sherlock doesn't have a mind palace yet to bury it in. He does a lot of 'stimming' though, which helps him, but worries Mummy and makes Father mad. Sherlock doesn't want to upset Mummy, but sometimes Father scares him and people confuse him so he has too.

He normally does it when they call him names at school, or he has to go in the gym where the lights are really bright or during lunch when everybody is yelling and screaming. When Mycrofts ask, Sherlock tells him he blacken his own eye for an experiment. Sherlock is starting to learn that sometimes he can lie if it makes things easier, but he doesn't know why he's still told he shouldn't.

Sometimes the world is just too much.

Sherlock is twelve and knows how to focus now. Now that Sherlock is older, Mycroft explains to him what death is and that everybody dies. It sounds painful to Sherlock and it just motivates him not to make friends because he doesn't want them to die.

He reads about Carl Powers in the paper, 'tragic swimming accident' it says. Sherlock knows better though. Father tells him he shouldn't be focusing on it and takes all of Sherlock crime books away, even the one about blood splatter. Mummy and Mycroft keep saying that Sherlock is just bored and should play his violin or tend to his bees'.

Sherlock isn't bored though, trying to solve who killed Carl Powers doesn't work out, but it gives Sherlock a new outlet. He always searches the papers to do with crimes, not all of them are about death though, some are about robbery and missing artifacts. Father tells him its creepy and he should act like a normal twelve year old.

Mummy keeps inviting people over for Sherlock to play with, but Sherlock thinks they are all boring and doesn't talk to them.

Mycroft understands though, even if nobody else does. Mycroft knows Sherlock doesn't see the deaths, he just sees the mystery behind it all.

Sherlock is thirteen and has a crush on Amy Falls. She has brown hair that she cuts regularly with natural blond highlights that reach her breast.

She wears foundation three days a week and lip gloss everyday. Sherlock doesn't normally like eyes, but Amy has pretty ones. They are just green, and Sherlock likes that. Her lips are a little too full for her face, and her noise a little too pointed, but Sherlock doesn't mind that. She always has one piece of hair that falls out when ever she puts it up.

Sherlock knows she has prominent hip bones, a mole on her left foot and a small burn on her ankle. Sherlock also knows she has a younger sibling, two or three, and three dogs, two small ones and a big one. Amy doesn't tell Sherlock this though, but Sherlock can see it.

Amy asks him if he's a pervert but Sherlock doesn't know what that is, so says no. She then asks him if he's physic and Sherlock smiles and tells her he just observed.

Amy says he has a nice smile and she thinks he's cute.

A week later Amy's mother catches them making out on Amy's bed, and Mrs. Falls tells Sherlock he can't see Amy any more. Mummy is upset too, and Sherlock hates upsetting Mummy. She tells Sherlock that he shouldn't look at girls or treat girls like that. Sherlock isn't sure what she means, but doesn't want to upset Mummy, so Sherlock doesn't look at girls any more.

Sherlock is sixteen and is told Father is dead.

Sherlock doesn't cry at the funeral and one of Mummy's friends calls him heartless.

Sherlock asks Mycroft if that's true.

Sherlock is nineteen and as much as he loves science, A-Levels are so boring because he knows it all already. He gets three A* in Physics, Chemistry and Biology and an A in Polish. Sherlock finds out that Polish is apparently the second most spoken language in England. At least forty percent in his class speak Polish as their native tongue, but Sherlock finds it's a challenge, and his Mummy calls him a 'thrill seeker'. He passes his sciences classes without even picking up a book once because Sherlock has already read and memorized the A-level sciences books from when Mummy brought them for him when he was fourteen.

Sherlock is nineteen when he makes his first friend.

Mycroft doesn't approve, says Roger is a bad influence on Sherlock. Sherlock doesn't listen, because he's nineteen now, and doesn't need to do what other tell him to any more. He's an adult now. Sherlock wonders if it's just because Mycroft doesn't want Sherlock to be happy, like how Father was?

Sherlock is twenty, and his brain has gone into over-drive. Sherlock loves university and wonders if he can stay for as many years as he wants. Roger can see how high-strung he is, and offers a solution. Sherlock finds out that cocaine is a perfect solution for his spit-fire brain and Sherlock finds it so much easier to communicate with people and for once, Sherlock feels normal.

Cocaine for Sherlock isn't about the high, he sees it more of a comfort and not as a crutch, but a support beam.

Sherlock doesn't understand why nobody told him about it before.

Sherlock is twenty, and Mummy is dead. He doesn't cry at her funeral, but really wants to.

Mummy's friend calls him heartless again, and Mycroft looks mad, even though he says he's furious. Sherlock isn't sure if he can't tell because it's Mycroft, or Sherlock just couldn't pick up on it.

Sherlock wonders if it's possible to actually die of a broken heart, because every since he started injecting, him and Mummy didn't talk much any more.

Sherlock is twenty-two and arguing with Mycroft. Mycroft calls him an addict and Sherlock is indignant.

"I can stop any time I want Mycroft," Sherlock says, because he knows it's true. Addicts are idiots, and Sherlock is far from dumb.

"Is that so? Then please, dear brother, prove me wrong."

And Sherlock does, without even going into rehab.

Sherlock then creates his mind palace, and it makes his life so much easier.

Sherlock is twenty-two, and still living with Roger. Sometimes, Sherlock wonders if Roger is still the same person. Roger does Heroin now too, as well as cocaine.

Sometimes, Sherlock wakes up in the middle of the night to hear Roger pacing in the kitchen muttering to himself. When Sherlock points it out the next morning, Roger always gets defensive so Sherlock learns not to say anything.

Roger yells a lot now too, screams in Sherlock's face and Sherlock hates it, because Roger has blue eyes with a yellow rim and sapphire, ultramarine and navy blue streaks and Sherlock's sure if he looks hard enough he can see different shades of green too and it's too much detail for Sherlock to look at so Sherlock doesn't look.

This just makes Roger even angrier.

Sherlock isn't sure what to do.

Sherlock is twenty-four and things have steadily gotten worse. He's taking cocaine again and locks himself in his room a lot. He ignores Mycroft's phone calls, because he knows Mycroft is right now, that Roger is a bad influence. Sherlock is twenty-four, has four A-level, a degree in Anatomy and Physiology and has only managed to keep one job but got fired after too many customer complaints.

He spends most of the day avoiding Roger, but Sherlock knows he can't pay for a flat on his own.

Roger has gotten worse too, Sherlock can't have conversation with him any more. They last about a minute on the best days. Some days, Roger doesn't come home, and that doesn't bother Sherlock. Sherlock doesn't know where Roger gets his drugs from, because Sherlock used to get them off Roger, but now he gets them off another man called Sam.

Sometimes, when Roger does come home, Sherlock stays at Sam's.

Sherlock is twenty-five and has blood on his hands. He's shaking and doesn't understand why, because death doesn't affect him. Roger's bleeding on the floor, and Sherlock has done his best to keep his head on. He's called the police and an ambulance. He's called Mycroft too.

He puts pressure on the wound, because he doesn't want Roger to die. The light in Rogers eyes' is fading and he's stuck on repeat, like the record his Father used to have. He keeps saying he's sorry and Sherlock isn't sure if he should believe him.

The emergency services turns up and Sherlock is arrested.

Mycroft bails him out two hours later and demands to know everything.

Sherlock hates it, because it means admitting he's wrong.

He tells Mycroft the truth, because it's his only chance of getting free.

Roger had came home that night, his noise red and inflamed from coke, the nerves visible on his arm from heroin and Sherlock could see all his nerves around his eyes that where blood shot. He had traces off coke on his trouser legs, the smell of smoke and cannabis clinging to his clothes. His clothes where wrinkled and he been wearing them for at least three days, his hair limp and greasy, stuck up on one side where he'd been laying on it.

They both started arguing, and Sherlock even admits that he probably could have prevented it if he kept his mouth shut.

Roger had him pinned against a wall in the kitchen, and Sherlock felt like he was sinking. His whole body felt too heavy, and everything looked too dim. Sherlock had reached out to exactly where he knew the knives where, he would admit that, and stabbed Roger in the side, between his second and third rib, at least two inches deep.

The blood, warmer than Sherlock anticipated, and thinner too, flows down Sherlock fingers and he watches numbly as Roger falls and fades.

Sherlock is twenty-five and has killed a man, his only friend, and because of Mycroft, Sherlock walks free.

Sherlock is twenty-eight and is still taking cocaine. He gets arrested again, this time, Mycroft isn't there to help him. Sherlock is smarter now though, and he can read this man, Lestrade easily and does so. So Sherlock makes a deal with Lestrade, he'll help him bring down a drug rink if he can go free.

After a few hours in a holding cell, Lestrade accepts Sherlock offer and Sherlock demonstrates how observant and smart he really is. It takes him three days to find out who organises it all, then a month and they have arrested thirty-seven people.

Well, Lestrade arrested them, Sherlock just helped out.

Then it was Lestrade who tried making a deal with Sherlock. If Sherlock gets himself off the drugs, and stays off them, he'll let Sherlock help out 'unofficially' with cases.

Sherlock is all too eager to help.

Sherlock is thirty and has been clean for a year now. Both Lestrade and Mycroft congratulates him and Sherlock doesn't understand why being clean from drugs deserve an award. Shouldn't that mean that everybody who never takes drugs should be congratulated on being clean each year? Lestrade laughs until he realizes he's serious.

Sherlock meets Molly, and he likes how she looks, because she looks simple, and nothing about her is too flashy and she doesn't draw too much attention. Sherlock finds it easy to concentrate around her.

Molly is too eager though, always willing too please and it makes Sherlock wonder what her motive is.

Sherlock's thirty-one and likes to collect things.

Sherlock's never lived alone before, and everything feels too empty and cold and too quiet.

Lestrade changes too much, some days he has stubble, other he's just shaven and sometimes his bread is a week old. Lestrade hair always changes too, seems to get very short and then he lets it grow out again. He always wears different style clothes depending on where they are, and it annoys Sherlock, because it's too much to concentrate on.

Molly doesn't change much though, and Sherlock likes that, but Molly is always too close. She lingers too long and smiles too much and laughs too loudly.

Sherlock collects skulls so he has something to talk to.

Sherlock is thirty-three and John moves in. John is stable and consistent, Sherlock likes that. Sherlock also likes that John never moves his stuff without asking, and even when he gets angry, he doesn't push his face into Sherlock's.

Everybody but Molly and Lestrade say it won't last, but then a week turns into two, two turns into three, that turns into six and then twelve, Sherlock then forgets he's counting, because John is like Sherlock thought, consistent.

John just turns into John, not the Doctor and Sherlock prefers talking to John, because he's more fun than his skull and John tries to teach him the rules, not succeeding, but he tries. Sherlock appreciates the effort.

Sherlock is thirty-four and really only has three people, John by coincidence, Lestrade by necessity, and Mycroft, bigger than his father could have dreamed off, but to Sherlock, Mycroft is cold in the wrong light.

This still doesn't bother Sherlock, because Mycroft is still easy, he's predictable, and so is John.

Sherlock likes John, because even though he's normal, he's easy, and stuck in his ways and doesn't change. Sherlock like it because he can understand John.

Sherlock is thirty-five and thinks he's starting to love too much, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, Mycroft... John. He loves them all too much, but it's not enough, because he courts death with the strangled breath in his lungs and the blood in in his ears and the tears like poison. Everybody knows Sherlock Holmes, but only John and Mycroft know Sherlock.

Sherlock likes it that way, wants it that way, nobody smiles at him and asks to see the man behind the blank facade. That's fine though, that's perfect, Sherlock wants it that way.

But Sherlock doesn't want to be anybody else but himself, and the tears feel like acid and his heart feels like a piston, thump, thump, thump and it hurts and Sherlock can't stop it.

He knows he has to be somebody else now though, he has to make John believe. John has to think he's a liar, a fake. It's the only way. Sherlock's never been so glad to learn how to lie.

He falls, and he feels like Batman, or Spiderman, but he shakes it off, because Sherlock's already told John he's no hero.

Sherlock is thirty-six and he's all alone again. He's in Rome and can only think about how much better it would be if John was there too.

Sherlock is thirty-seven and so tired, desperately, aching. His skin feels tight, his bones heavy and nothing seems to move like it should. Sherlock just does what he always does. He solves crimes, saves lives and keeps hurting people without knowing how to stop. He doesn't remember the rules, and wish John was there to teach him.

Sherlock is thirty-nine and John looks like some sort of an Angel, with a street light glowing above John's head like a halo and the light twitching off his blond hair.

Things become as normal as they could be after a three year gap. Sherlock is two people now though, three on days when he's on a case, and he pours energy into cups and spins around the lab like he never left.

Sherlock wonders why John took him back so quickly, and John says, "I trust you." Sherlock wonders why.

Because Sherlock's brilliant, always has been, he's a genius, and finds out at least fifteen facts about somebody just by looking at them, but he still can't read them. At thirty-nine, people still confuse him, and the rules are too complicated but John is still trying to teach Sherlock the rules, and Sherlock still isn't getting them.

Sherlock is forty and John is forty-five and is getting older. John's tired, and Sherlock doesn't know how to make things easier.

Everybody knows them now though, Sherlock and his side-kick, John, and somebody has to know something. Sherlock hates the word side-kick too, because John is so much more, John is his everything now, he's Sherlock morning, noon and night.

But Sherlock feels tired too, so he sleeps, with his skin feeling heavy and bones feeling hollow. But Sherlock feels sand paper in his dreams, and chases after insects. Three years old and sixteen, standing at his fathers funeral in the rags of his parents expectations with blood on his hands, cold blood now, and Sherlock is gasping and sweating.

There's light seeping through the window, soft and gentle and hands on his shoulders, heavy and solid, the way Sherlock likes it. It's John, because John is always there, he's the one variable that never changes.

"Breath," he orders, and Sherlock does, one breathe, two breaths, three breaths...

The corners of Johns mouth tug up, he's smiling as he says, "Morning."

Sherlock doesn't speak, doesn't know what to say, but John hears him anyway, John always hears him.

Sherlock doesn't know the rules still, but that's okay, because they can make them up as they go along.


End file.
